


The Haunting Quiet

by bumcheeks



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Death, Enemies to Lovers, Fantasy, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Sad, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumcheeks/pseuds/bumcheeks
Summary: Prince Kurapika is the last living member of the royal family, but he knows he isn't fit to take the throne. While his advisors encourage him to take his place as king, an unsettling begins to drive the kingdom to madness and allegiances are questioned. Was the fire that killed the royal family really an accident? And if not, who's to blame? Will fear and doubt drive Kurapika from the castle, or something more sinister?
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25
Collections: Hunter x Hunter





	1. Kurapika

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been wanting to write a fantasy-au for a while now and I couldn't imagine a better series of characters to fit the narrative than those from Hunter x Hunter. I'm aiming to update this story every 10 days. Thanks for reading! :)

For centuries the Kurta family had ruled the kingdom of Padokea; that was the way of things. The system had never been disturbed. As it always went, once the king passed; the throne would fall to his first-born son. When the first-born son met his end, the next successor would take his turn as king. The Kurta lineage could not have anticipated the deaths of the current king, his first and second-born sons, as well as his two eldest grandchildren all at once. Never did Kurapika expect or prepare to rule.  
It had only been a month since the tragic passing of the royal family: Kurapika’s grandparents (the king and queen), aunt and uncle, cousins, and parents – all dead; all gone. Anything that remained of them was just a gentle whisp of a memory.  
Their lives had been cut short by a fire that burned for nearly five nights. In a month’s time the ground had yet to recover. Grass no longer grew and it continued to smell of brimstone and decay. Not only had the flames devoured the Kurta bloodline; they had eaten any memories left behind, as well as the kingdom’s sense of pride and peace. Only one Kurta made it out alive and now that sole survivor would become king. Kurapika could hardly imagine ruling a kingdom when he couldn’t even manage to quiet his mind for more than a day. Over and over, the smokey silence of that night haunted him like a nightmare he’d never be able to escape. If the horrid remembrance of loss weren’t enough to cloud Kurapika’s mind with doubt, there were rogue groups amidst the shadows of Padokea that demanded the prince’s head – how could he survive when the others had perished? They accused him of murder, treason, and even dark magic.  
There were likely many men and women that would be driven to take responsibility and rise to the occasion if they were in his position – succeed the throne with strength, but the prince had not yet finished his mourning and that pain did not drive him beyond anger and sorrow. He was still donned in all black; his raven overcoat making his milky skin and golden hair appear almost luminescent against a hazy morning sky.  
“Your highness.” Kurapika turned toward the voice. He spent many mornings in his grandmother’s garden – this morning was no different. Leorio, a member of the Trusted Council; advisors to the throne; stood at the edge of the hedges. His head was bowed in respect, though Kurapika wondered if it had more to do with fear of looking up and meeting the prince’s crimson rage. “Are you ready?” the older man asked.  
“Yes, Leorio. Thank you.” The blonde wondered if his voice sounded uneven. As he moved toward the man come to escort him, Kurapika suddenly felt unsteady and weak. Each step was more and more like a heavy burden – how could he be the one to stay standing when all of the greats had fallen? He certainly wasn’t ready for the inevitable conversation that awaited him. The prince followed his taller advisor into the palace and down one of many corridors. It was quiet – only the heels of their shoes echoed as they clicked against the marble floor. Step after step after step; Kurapika was trying to focus, trying not to remember the quiet. He steadied his gaze on the length of Leorio’s black robe. Somehow it softened his heart to know he was not alone in his mourning. Still, Kurapika was having a hard time swallowing the lump in his throat.  
The rest of the members were already seated in the council chambers, spread silently around the long table. They were all donned in the color of mourning. The prince suddenly doubted that it was a show of grief. It was an expectation after all that the council move, dress, and function as one unit – one advisor with five different faces. As Kurapika took his seat at the head of the table and ran his eyes across each face in the room, he wondered if they mourned the way he mourned, or if this was simply an obligation for them. After all, not one of them had offered him any sort of sympathies or words that could be used as a source of comfort. They counseled the prince but did not offer him any additional kindness. The quiet that he felt everywhere he went – the anger and grief – strangled any chance at peace. Most days he could hold his temper still, balanced and calm like a steady river. It was easy to let the wind whistle through his teeth and keep his curses hitched at the back of his throat. But the prince’s days of peace were long gone. Kurapika’s anger was so tense inside his body he could physically feel the way it unraveled and writhed like a hungry snake, desperate to strangle the first person who misspoke.  
“So kind of you to join us, your highness.” It was Illumi who spoke. Kurapika kept his eyes on the glossy table, the burning heat of fury in his eyes. It was a jab, and everyone likely knew it. Most of all, Illumi did not think Kurapika was fit to be king and not once did he bother to hide that opinion. He had been a strong supporter of the prince’s grandfather, the late king. Kurapika could not be less like his grandfather. Where the elder man was stoic and strong and well-spoken, Kurapika had a quick temper and a sharp tongue; he was defiant and often irrational. At twenty-one, he was still a child. “As we were saying, we will proceed with the crowning ceremony as planned. In one week’s time, the prince will take his proper seat. The council has filled the void, but our interference must end.” In his fury, Kurapika met Illumi’s eyes: they were black and hollow. He looked entirely unphased by the crimson rage in the prince’s glare. It was hard to say whether he was angry at Illumi, or angry that no one moved to disagree. The council really was one body.  
“My grandfather, your king, is freshly in his grave,” Kurapika said. “My entire family. Or have you forgotten?” His fury was causing even his fingers to tremble. “Let me mourn my loss. I don’t believe I am asking much.”  
“All due respect, your highness.” It was Tonpa speaking, a sneering grimace on his face. “We have all suffered the loss here.”  
Kurapika balled his fists in a fresh rage, but before he could speak, Leorio stood. “That’s enough, Tonpa. Spare us your thoughts, please.” His voice was curt and his face red. Pokkle was tugging at the standing man's sleeve in an attempt to get him to reclaim his seat.  
Hanzo, who was sitting directly to the prince’s right, had his fingers tied neatly together on the table. “Your highness, if I may.” The man’s kindness soothed Kurapika’s fire. He appreciated that the latter was requesting permission and the prince nodded his head in gratitude. “I believe what Tonpa is trying to say is that Padokea is shrouded in darkness and the people need guidance. They’re looking to you as their leader and as their beacon of light.” Hanzo’s eyes were kind and Kurapika felt some semblance of calm wash over him. But that kindness didn’t do much to change his mind.  
Kurapika’s gaze moved around the eyes in the room. Only Leorio’s would not meet his – the man was still standing, his head hanging. Was his opinion different from that of the others? If that were true, he didn’t say it – if his thoughts differed, he was on his own. The prince waited for the man’s eyes to find his, but they never did. “This is a pointless conversation,” Illumi suddenly insisted. “The kingdom needs a king, and you are the only remaining member of the Kurta line. You will take the throne, or another will ride in from over the hills and claim it as their own. Your opinion and sorrows have no place here. Enemies will not pity you. Therefore neither can we.” Yet another decision made without the aid of the prince. It was the Trusted Council’s decision so why didn’t they lead? Why didn’t the single body with five faces rule?  
“It seems to me my presence in this meeting was entirely unnecessary.” Kurapika stood. “If you’ll excuse me.” He rushed from the room – another tantrum he was sure would shock absolutely no one.  
“Your highness!” It was Leorio calling after him, barely excusing himself from the table. Kurapika was walking faster, desperate to get as far away from the council as possible. “Your highness, please.” The prince finally stopped, releasing an exasperated breath. He looked into the eyes of the man who had followed him. His cheeks were tinted with something like frustration. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. “I tried.” His words tangled themselves around Kurapika’s heart.  
Kurapika took Leorio’s hand between his and looked into the taller man’s eyes. “I’ll always remember your kindness, Leorio.” Kurapika was offering the council member a sincere compliment, yet the latter’s eyes looked so sad. He bowed and turned back toward the opposite end of the hall. The prince had no friends, no allies. His heart was chained up by bitterness and loss. And as he walked, the quiet nestled inside his ears, ringing like a horrid reminder of flames and charred bodies pulled from the wreckage. In life, each member of the Kurta line was vivacious and colorful, but in death they were all the same ashen gray void. Now when the prince recalled the members of his family, he did not picture their cheery dispositions, their quiet grace, or radiant eyes – he only pictured the burnt and decayed, the lifeless hollow and crackling flames in the distance.  
Alone in his room, the curtains drawn, and the doors locked, Kurapika wept.


	2. Kurapika

The night lingered. Kurapika stood on his balcony, eyes on the stars and moon above. He thought of his family, recently lost, and his ancestors; he wondered if they were somewhere amongst the stars, watching him. Were they at peace? Did they doubt Kurapika? Look on him with pity? His earlier anger had devolved into sorrow. More than anything he was grateful for the solitude – it was a different kind of quiet. He was free to grieve on his own without judgmental, lingering eyes. Kurapika would much rather befriend his lonesomeness, even if it ended up as his only company, than go back to the council room and endure the pressures of his position. If he couldn’t even face Illumi and his dark, haunting eyes; how would he ever stand before an entire kingdom?  
Kurapika had a habit of waiting until he was beyond exhaustion to sleep. He let the night drift along until he could hardly bear to keep his eyes open. If the prince waited until his mind was settled and his thoughts were a blank sheet, he could sleep more soundly.  
He lay in his bed, cool sheets draped over his body. When Kurapika closed his eyes, he imagined the stars he had just spent the greater part of the night with. Behind his eyelids, he counted as each star blinked out; lulling him to sleep. His breathing steadied and his heart rate slowed. The blonde was nearly lost to his dreams when something like a tap reanimated his thoughts. He blinked once and again, trying to exhaust his new worry. But when his eyes were closed again, there was another tap and then another; like someone was thumping a fingernail against the door to the balcony. His heart was racing with tension and fury.  
The prince thought to turn over and search for whatever was causing the sound when the balcony door suddenly creaked open. He lay perfectly still in his bed, eyes shut tight. Footsteps that were nearly quiet, if only Kurapika had been asleep, seemed to move toward him. He tried to count them as they moved, tried to anticipate how near to him they had come; but it was impossible to say. A single breath was lodged in his throat as the footsteps stopped. There was breathing at his back – quiet, but indicating a presence, nonetheless. Should the blonde move? Should he turn over and demand an explanation? Who was intruding on him at such a late hour? When a fresh bravery seized his quavering stomach, Kurapika identified a different sound – one not unlike a blade being unsheathed.   
His exhaustion turned to fear and energy, and he rolled toward the opposite side of the bed, leaping toward the door. The prince very well may have made it out of the room had it not been for his curiosity. When he turned to look into the belly of the room, a small figure with silky white hair emerged from the darkness and seemed to lunge for him. Kurapika could not move, could not speak – he had pinned himself against the door.  
The figure moved toward him, cloaked only by the night. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Kurapika reached behind him in search of the doorhandle, but he was losing precious moments as the stranger moved toward him. His eyes moved back and forth between the door at his back and the shadow approaching. The blade of a large dagger was exposed, glistening against the moonlight. Kurapika nearly forgot its wielder and thought only of the floating blade. His hand found the doorhandle, but it was too late – the blade was swinging toward his neck. He pulled on the handle and slid his body away from the dagger’s trail, but his attempt was in vain. Heat blossomed in his left shoulder where the blade entered, tearing through his flesh and muscle. The prince groaned in pain as the dagger escaped and came down again toward his chest.   
He caught the sharp point in his left hand, gripping down on the steel to hold it away from his exposed body. It cut into his palm and he grunted as he tried to push the figure away. Blood pooled in his hand, making his grip unsteady and slick. His back was still pressed against one door as he groaned against the sting of the blade. The heavy wooden doors suddenly swung open, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. Suddenly the blade-wielder was on the floor, toppled over from the force. “Your highness!” a voice called into the moonlit room. It was Leorio.  
As the figure regained their footing and lunged forward with the dagger, Leorio caught them by the wrists and swept their feet out from under them, wrestling the blade from their hand. He briefly looked toward the prince – even the night could not hide his blood- stained body and in the heat of panic, the shadowy pale figure escaped across the balcony. “Prince Kurapika!” His name rang out against the room.  
“Le-Leorio,” he whimpered into the darkness. His trembling fingers searched the deep wound in his shoulder. “W-what are you–?”  
“I followed him here,” the taller man said, bending down and carefully taking Kurapika’s hand in his to observe the depth of the wound. He fingered the edges of the cut carefully and the prince immediately hissed through his teeth. “Sorry, sorry.” He rushed to the bed and grabbed an edge of the sheets, tearing it in his hands. “Forgive me, your highness,” he said as he rushed back to the aide of the prince. He carefully dressed the wound on the blonde’s hand. “Do you trust me?” he asked as he knotted the fabric.  
“What?” the prince asked. He was unsure how to answer, but Leorio already seemed to be in search of something else. He seemed to find what he was looking for and grabbed in the darkness, reappearing with a pair of boots. When he helped slide Kurapika’s feet into them, he carefully helped the smaller man to stand.   
“Do you trust me?” Leorio asked again. His eyes were serious and without really understanding why, Kurapika nodded his head. “Okay, good.” He pulled the cloak away from his body and wrapped it around the blonde, pulling the hood up. “We need to go right now. Can you walk? You’ve lost a lot of blood.”  
“I – I think so,” the prince stuttered as he pulled on one side of the dark cloak with his good hand. “Where are we going? Who was that?” But Leorio was already moving into the hallway, urging Kurapika to walk directly beside him. The taller man kept his hand pressed firmly between the other’s shoulder blades. The prince didn’t have time to focus on one source of pain: his entire chest was throbbing and pounding as if the wound in his shoulder were tearing down his entire middle, splitting him open slowly. “Leorio, what’s happening?” Kurapika tried again.  
“It’s important that you go unnoticed,” the older man insisted. His gaze was focused ahead, although his hand remained firmly in place against his companion’s back.  
“Where are we going?” the prince tried yet again. The small pressure on his back seemed to guide him, to remind him to focus solely on reaching an unknown destination.   
“To meet a friend,” Leorio whispered. “He’ll help us.” Kurapika had so many questions, but his mind was still hazy and spinning from the pain blossoming across his shoulder and palm. “Here,” Leorio suddenly said, using his palm to encourage the smaller man through a doorway. Before they entered, Leorio looked back over his shoulder. If he was in search of someone, he didn’t find them in the dim hall. The door shut, nearly soundlessly, behind the pair. Leorio went straight toward the back wall and began to feel along the stones. “Ah-ha!” he chirped as he pressed his fingers against one of the stones. All on its own the wall seemed to rearrange itself, exposing a doorway and a dark, narrow staircase.  
“Leorio?” Kurapika’s brow furrowed. Had the hidden passage always been there? How long had Leorio known about it? Were there other palace secrets?  
“You already said you trusted me, don’t take it back now.” He encouraged Kurapika to descend the stone staircase and closed the door carefully behind them. The prince’s breath hitched as total darkness fell on them, but lanterns on the wall suddenly began to light up as if to guide their way. They were halfway down the narrow stairs when Kurapika pulled against the shirt of the man in front of him, trying to urge him to slow down.   
“Leorio,” Kurapika said sternly. The tall man stopped and turned to meet the prince’s eyes. “What’s happening? Where are you taking me? Who was that in my room?”  
“I’ll explain everything, your highness – I promise. For now, we need to move. Time waits for no man.” They were moving down the stairs again toward a door at the very bottom. Leorio grabbed a lantern off the wall and moved first through the doorway. Had it not been for the lantern, the small passage would have been entirely coated by darkness. At the end of the short passage, Leorio crouched onto his knees, moving the lantern along the wall until he seemed to find what he was looking for. He leaned against what appeared to be a small hatch with his shoulder until it popped open. Moonlight flooded the other side. “I’ll go through first, wait here.”  
Leorio crawled on all fours through the open passage. Kurapika tensed up at the thought – the wounds in his left shoulder and hand were very fresh. The taller man was still on his knees on the other side of the passage. “Careful,” he encouraged. “I’ll help you.” Kurapika cautiously dropped to his knees and leaned forward to bend his head through.   
It seemed impossible to get through the space without causing more strain to his injuries. The thought occurred to him to lie on his back, injured shoulder tilted to the side as to not drag it across the floor, as he kicked off the ground with his feet. Leorio caught onto the plan and when Kurapika had breached enough of the space, pulled the smaller man through by his waist.  
They were in an empty horse stall – the passage had led them to the stables on the far side of the castle. When Kurapika began to speak, the councilman held a finger to his own lips. He suddenly whistled into the silence. Only seconds passed before a whistle was returned. Leorio helped Kurapika to his feet and guided him out of the stall. The latter was cold and tired and scared. The fabric wrapped about his hand was soaked through and as his shoulder had not been bandaged, his nightgown too felt drenched. It was entirely possible, Kurapika thought, that he looked like a corpse.  
Out of the darkness stepped Pokkle holding a bundle. “Your highness,” he bowed and held out the bundle for Leorio who took it and held it close to his chest.  
“Please,” Kurapika said rather harshly. “What is going on?”   
Pokkle’s glistening eyes looked so sympathetic against the darkness of night. “I fear tonight was not an accident, your highness. I want to explain more, but I trust Leorio will tell you everything.” There was kindness in his eyes, but also sadness and exhaustion. It looked as if he had been fighting a war of which the prince had just begun to breach the surface. What was happening? Why had someone attacked him? What were these secrets that Pokkle and Leorio held so close?  
Kurapika tried not to think about all the people who discounted him – all the people who doubted his honesty and faithfulness to Padokea. Pokkle held the edges of the hood framing the prince’s face. His eyes and mouth were sad as his gaze lingered on the blonde. “You can’t stay here, it’s not safe. We’ve already decided – Leorio will go with you.”  
“Where are we going?” the latter asked, looking between Pokkle and Leorio.  
“For now, I have a friend who owns the old inn on the edge of town,” Leorio said. “We’ll spend a day or so there and travel by night. We can’t afford to stay long.”  
Kurapika was trying hard not to cry. To lose his family and his comfort… and now his home. Pokkle stepped into the first stall and encouraged the horse through the door. He was saddled and ready to ride. Leorio put the bundle Pokkle had given him into a bag strapped off the side of the saddle. “We need to go before anyone begins to realize.”  
“Be safe,” Pokkle said, grasping Leorio’s hand and bowing low for Kurapika. The taller of the men carefully helped Kurapika onto the horse. It had been a long while since he’d ridden – his limbs felt weak with exhaustion, his upper body roared in defiant pain. The prince wasn’t sure if he was supposed to, or for what he was showing thanks, but he nodded his head in gratitude anyway.  
Leorio climbed onto the horse behind Kurapika and took the reins in his hands, encouraging the horse to run into the darkness. The palace faded behind them. Kurapika did not turn back to watch it stand just as tall without him.


	3. Kurapika

Pain seared through the prince’s shoulder. It moved across his chest and down his arm where it pulsated into an intense throb at the center of his palm. Leorio was pressed close to the smaller man’s back, arms against his sides as he held tight to the reins. Kurapika could feel his vision begin to waver with each uneven bounce. The pain was crawling across his body like tiny ants, slow moving but intent on their mission to derive their host of sanity and stability. Any moment he felt like he would tumble off the horse. “Leorio,” he said. His own voice sounded far away. “Leorio.” Kurapika was trying to hang onto something tangible, but he could feel himself fading, becoming unhinged from reality as darkness washed over him.

He woke, what felt like only moments later, with an audible gasp. Sweat had begun to pool around his brow and along his collarbone. When his vision began to teeter again, trying to come back into focus, the man noticed that his shoulder was bandaged. The same was true of his hand. While the pain was still present, it had dulled significantly. “You’re awake.” It was Leorio. He was standing near the doorway at the opposite end of the room as if he had been pacing. The curtains were drawn to ward out the darkness, and the room was quiet and comfortable. A lantern flickered and fawned in the corner, and the distinct smell of beef and fresh bread wafted through the tight space.  
“W-where are we?” Kurapika managed to croak. His throat felt dry and his stomach entirely too empty. The cool air in the room brushed his bare chest, but he was much too drowsy to move or be bothered by his exposure.  
“You’re at the Whale Island Inn,” Leorio said, crouching to his knees next to the smaller man’s bed. “You’re safe. Here, please drink.” He held a cup to Kurapika’s lips as he carefully tilted his head with his free hand. Cool water ran across the blonde’s tongue and down his parched throat.  
“Leorio.” Kurapika’s voice was quiet and broken. “Why did you save me?” So close up, he could see that the taller man’s otherwise white frock was painted with red blood. My blood? He wondered to himself. The very thought made his eyes sting.  
“The kingdom needs you, your highness,” Leorio said simply, a kind smile on his lips. He set the cup of water aside. “Padokea depends on you.” No one had ever said anything like that to him before. He had always assumed he was just another face in a long line of Kurta’s – the unlucky one fated to live in the shadow of grief and death. The weight of Leorio’s words filled the prince with guilt; he couldn’t face such expectations. He turned his eyes toward the wall. If what the older man said was true – that Padokea needed him – then why had this happened?  
“Maybe it would have been better if they had succeeded in killing me,” Kurapika admitted, speaking of the assassination attempt freely for the first time since it happened. He didn’t want Leorio to see the tears that had begun to well in his eyes, so he kept his gaze focused on the wall.  
“If they had succeeded, I would have failed,” Leorio said. His voice seemed closer than before, even though Kurapika was sure he was still directly beside the bed. The prince wiped his eyes dry with his good hand and turned back toward the man now entirely on his knees at the side of the bed. “I feel responsible, my prince,” Leorio said. Kurapika wanted to ask questions, ask what had happened that had brought them to this inn, but his unruly stomach began to speak. “Forgive me,” he said, standing and moving to the opposite side of the room. Leorio returned with a tray balancing a cup of stew and a small loaf of bread.  
The blonde carefully pushed himself into a sitting position using the wall and the strength in his good arm. “If I ask you for the truth, will you give it to me?” Kurapika asked, despite his grumbling stomach.  
Leorio looked unsettlingly pained. “Eat first, please,” he insisted. “Then we will talk.” Kurapika didn’t protest. He was careful to eat slowly, as not to gorge himself on stew and bread in case his hollow stomach protested. Once he was finished, Leorio moved the tray back to the table across the room before sitting on the bed across from where Kurapika was resting. The taller man untied his shirt when he sat, revealing just a peek of collarbone.  
“There have been rumors,” Leorio began. “Whispers about attempts on your life. Some members of the council were…” the man hesitated. Whatever confirmation he was searching for in Kurapika’s eyes, he found, so he continued speaking. “Less than concerned. Saying it was unlikely. Several of us insisted on constant patrol outside your chambers, but it was rejected. We were called ‘dramatic’ and ‘paranoid.’”  
A realization struck Kurapika. He’d had it in his head, even after the attempt on his life, that they would stay in hiding until the fear settled down, but that they would go back. Why had he ever believed something so foolish? “We can’t go back,” he said, the thought still managing to catch him off his guard.  
Leorio’s gaze fell. “I’m afraid not. Not until we can be sure you’re safe.”  
But that could take weeks, months even. They might never be sure that the castle was a safe place for such an unruly, undesirable prince. “I should be relieved, I suppose.” Kurapika carefully leaned back against the frame of the bed. “I’m not fit to be king. I was never intended to be king. It’s… freeing.” Despite everything, the heavy weight of ruling didn’t exist for Kurapika outside of the castle walls, and certainly not lying in a bed, bandaged and emotionally tattered. “I can be whoever I want to be.” From across the room, Leorio was frowning. “You’ve no obligation to me here, Leorio,” the blonde insisted. “I’ll find some way to pay you for your troubles, I assure you.”  
“Your highness…” Leorio began, but his thoughts seemed to cut him off.  
“No. No more titles, Leorio. I’m just Kurapika now.” How long since he had worn his own name? Titles had been all he’d known for years. He thought to ask who in the council had defied the request for more protection, but he had a sneaking suspicion reality would only break his heart further.  
“Someday you will have to go back… Kurapika.” The older man uttered the name with some hesitance. “You can’t run forever.”  
Before Kurapika could think to protest, there was a soft knock at the door. Neither man was able to speak before the door opened. A kind looking woman with soft red hair tied in a tiny knot walked in. “Oh! Thank the stars, you’re awake,” she said, letting out a breath. She had what appeared to be flour on her cheeks and her otherwise white apron was covered in spots and handprints. Kurapika waited and watched as the woman fiddled with her hands, reaching for the tray and then knotting her fingers in her apron. “Where are my manners? Please beg pardon, your highness.” She curtsied, low and clumsily.   
Leorio appeared to be hiding a small, bashful smile behind his hand. Kurapika put his good hand up to stop her. “Please, that’s not necessary. Your kindness and hospitality are more than I could ever hope to expect.”  
“Your highness,” Leorio began. “Mito is a friend of my mother’s and the owner of this inn. She’s a wonderful cook and the most beautiful woman you’ll ever hope to see.”  
Her face flushed with embarrassment and she touched her hand to her chest. “You flatter me,” Mito said. “Your highness, I’m sorry your meal wasn’t more elaborate.”  
“It was wonderful,” Kurapika smiled. “Thank you.”  
She returned the smile, wiping one of her flour dusted cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’ll be in the kitchen downstairs should you need anything,” she said, curtseying at the door before closing it behind her.  
“It’s awfully late to be in the kitchen, isn’t it?” Kurapika asked.  
“I think it’s more likely the sun will be rising soon,” Leorio laughed. “You should rest. You’ve been through a great deal.”  
Kurapika wanted to protest, he wanted to talk more, but he was too tired even to object to being paraded around like a child. Outside the sun was beginning to rise over the hills. The blonde let his eyes flutter closed. If the prince had fallen asleep, it didn’t last. His eyes were slits, watching Leorio at the center of the room, his back to the prince. The taller man lifted his shirt over his head and set it aside. Kurapika found himself focusing on the taut muscles in Leorio’s back. He followed the line of the man’s spine, his eyes venturing across the muscles and his broad shoulders. When Leorio stretched his arms and reached toward the ceiling, Kurapika suddenly realized that he’d been staring. He felt the heat come to his face and immediately squeezed his eyes shut. His heart was pounding. The blonde tried to still the racing and force himself to sleep. He hardly remembered drifting away.


	4. Kurapika

He woke to a hand covering his mouth – Leorio’s. The man’s face was incredibly close; close enough that Kurapika could feel each panicked breath against his forehead. The blonde shifted beneath his companion’s grip, as if he were moving to speak, but the taller man immediately put his other hand up as if to urge the silence to linger. There were loud voices booming on the first floor below; becoming more intense, and irate as unidentifiable words surged. They sounded so close that Kurapika feared they were under the bed waiting for him to swing his feet over the side so they could grab him and pull him down through the floorboards. The disgruntled voices changed into thundering footsteps, moving up the stairs toward the room where the pair sat in stillness. Leorio’s face had become a ghastly shade of white. Kurapika couldn’t recall a time that he’d seen the other man looking so unsettled. Not only was Leorio holding his hand over the smaller man’s mouth; he was using his body as a shield to cover the space between Kurapika and the door. It was hard to breathe, hard to relax, and not just because of the tension rising through the floor and ascending the stairs.  
There were voices already slipping under the door, making demands, insisting the only thing between safety and exposure be torn away. “As I already said, this is my nephew’s room.” It was Mito’s voice, louder than necessary as if she were offering a warning. “You won’t find anything in here.”  
“Step aside.” Kurapika recognized the low voice as belonging to one of his late father’s personal guard. A voice that had once been so soothing suddenly left the young man feeling unsettled. Leorio had him by the wrist before his thoughts ever caught up, urging him under the bed – it was the only place to hide in such a small, exposed space. The taller man slid under the frame behind Kurapika, pinning him against the floor with the weight of his body. There was strain against Kurapika’s shoulder as he lay on his stomach, face turned toward the wall.  
“Quiet,” Leorio whispered, his breath hot against Kurapika’s ear. The prince thought of when he was a child, hiding under the furniture with his cousin, holding the other boy’s hand in fear and excitement as their parents searched to take them away to their daily lessons. Without a second thought, Kurapika found Leorio’s hand and took it in his. It felt like back then, like a security blanket so fear wouldn’t drag him away.  
The door opened and several sets of footsteps entered. Kurapika couldn’t see – everything was dependent on sound. Leorio squeezed his hand beneath his grip and the blonde reminded himself that he was safe – they’d never found him before and wouldn’t now. “I thought you said this was your nephew’s room,” another voice said. Kurapika didn’t recognize it. “Why are there two beds?”  
“We have to utilize every bit of space. Sometimes we have unexpected guests.” Mito sounded unbelievably calm. Kurapika felt horrible for leaving her to carry such a burden alone. Was she as scared as Kurapika was? And what about Leorio? Was he scared? The blonde squeezed his companion’s hand closer so that it was tucked against his chest, but the latter made no moves to pull away. As if sensing his level of fear, Leorio dipped his head against the smaller man’s. He’d never felt so close to anyone, never felt so afraid and somehow, so safe.  
“Hm,” the voice Kurapika recognized offered a satisfied grunt. “Very well. Please keep an eye out. It’s important that the prince is returned.”  
“Understood,” Mito offered. “Thank you for your service to the kingdom.” She was clearly a wise woman, someone who had likely seen all types walk through the doors of her inn. How many fugitives had she hidden here before? Had others hidden under the very same bed, desperate not to be discovered? And when had Kurapika stopped referring to himself as a royal, and started referring to himself as a fugitive?  
The room sat quiet again for some time and silence seemed to have fallen over the inn once more. Kurapika was still squeezing Leorio’s hand in his. He was admittedly horrified to let go. The silence felt endless. It had become a tangible thing, burrowing into Kurapika’s chest. He refused to open his eyes, even though the footsteps had since vanished. “Are you okay?” Leorio’s voice was so close, like a warm embrace. Kurapika was delayed in letting go of the other man’s hand until he felt the pull of the other’s fingers as they tried to slide away. Heat washed over the blonde as he began to realize what he’d done.  
“Yes,” Kurapika lied. “Yes, I’m fine.” Did Leorio know that he was horrified? Could he sense it? Did he know that the younger man was worried that he might move back or pull away too suddenly? Kurapika didn’t want to be left alone in the darkness. He didn’t want to be on his own again.   
An unsettling quiet had fallen over the inn. Kurapika and Leorio stayed hidden under the bed for a long moment, waiting until the stillness felt safe again. The taller man let out an exasperated sigh that seemed to break the spell. “Leorio?” Kurapika questioned. His voice was hardly more than a whisper. “What’s happening?” He knew his companion didn’t have the answer, but he asked the question out of desperation to fill the empty space.  
“I’m not sure,” Leorio whispered in turn. Kurapika wondered if the other man realized that he was still so close. His quick heartbeat was no longer racing because of fear. He tried to remind himself that this closeness wasn’t intimacy, it was duty.  
The door creaked open and light footsteps moved across the floor. “Are you still here?” It was Mito. The spell was broken and all at once Leorio seemed to sense that he was too close and moved to slide out from under the bed, reaching back to assist Kurapika in an effort not to put additional strain on his still-fresh wounds. “Thank the stars,” the woman said as she assisted Leorio in helping Kurapika to his feet.  
“So, they’ve sent a search party to find me,” Kurapika said, using his good hand to wipe away dust from his pants. He should have suspected it would only be a matter of time before they came looking.  
Mito looked uneasy. She tucked hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. Her eyes were sunken, and she looked completely exasperated, like she was only one breath away from fainting. “Leorio, can I speak with you?” Her voice sounded unsteady, but Leorio followed her through the door in a fast sweep, shutting it behind him.   
When the door was closed, Kurapika moved to follow. He pressed his ear against the back of the door, trying to listen. The pair was whispering under their breath and Kurapika found himself stricken by both jealousy and confusion. Mito and Leorio stopped when the door suddenly swung open and the blonde began to speak, demonstrating his agitation. “I demand to know what’s happening,” Kurapika said. Despite his desire to leave the royal life behind, he was speaking with the determined authority of a prince. His voice had that tone only because he was horrified of the silence that kept trying to make a home in the room.  
The woman unfolded a page that she pulled from the lining of her apron. “They brought this,” she said. Before the prince could ask any more questions, Mito held the page out. Kurapika took it in his good hand and read, at first to himself, and then aloud: Wanted alive: Prince Kurapika of Padokea… what is this?” He was horrified to read on, but he had no choice. “For treason against the kingdom and… murder?” His voice caught in his throat. “Reward for the prince’s safe return to be paid by the Trusted Council.” Emotions surged inside of the young man. Treason? Murder? Who had dared to make such absurd, baseless allegations? He thought back to the night before and the confusing conversation with Leorio and Pokkle. Had someone in the council done this? Was this their preempted plan? Had they been prepared for this exact outcome? Or had they acted on impulse because the prince hadn’t been assassinated like they’d expected? The blonde was starting to make unsettling connections behind his wide, furious, red eyes.  
“I was hoping we would have more time to rest, but we have to take our leave,” Leorio said. Kurapika felt the weight of the older man’s exhaustion in the way he spoke.  
“Where will you go?” Mito asked. Kurapika began to wonder if they could outrun the council, outrun whatever anger and hate was chasing the prince. And if they could, where would that running take them?  
“As far as it takes,” Leorio said as if in response to the former’s question. He paced past Kurapika into the room, his nerves evident. “We’ll travel by night and sleep by day. We’ll head for the town over.”  
“Leorio,” Kurapika said questioningly, following the taller man back into the room. Mito moved down the stairs in a sudden rush. She seemed stricken by the thought of a new purpose and Kurapika was in no position to stop her. After all, time was a luxury.  
The still-pacing man was in a world all his own. “Maybe two towns over by daybreak if we can make it,” he thought aloud.  
“Leorio–” the blonde tried again. Desperation was seizing his chest.  
“Of course, we’ll need to stop often and tend to your wounds.”  
“Leorio!” His desperate, near-silent pleas had become an outburst. He hadn’t meant to yell during such a tense moment, but he had to get Leorio’s attention somehow. What he wanted to offer in that moment was gratitude. He wanted to thank the man for all he’d done, all he’d sacrificed in such a short time. Leorio had swept Kurapika away from his home, carried him into the night in hopes of saving his life. What Kurapika said was not a reflection of that thanks. It did not represent the feelings still surging in his heart after being so near the taller man beneath the bed. His words were a different sort of desperation – an attempt to save Leorio in the same way he had saved the prince. “Let me go on alone,” he said. “Go back to the castle. Tell them you tried to find me and you–”  
“Absolutely not!” Leorio immediately interjected and Kurapika’s heart nearly soared. “I won’t let you do that. I’m coming with you, your high– Kurapika.”  
“I can’t allow you to sacrifice so much,” Kurapika insisted. His life was not worth another, not worth Leorio’s freedom.  
“I swore an oath to your grandfather, and I plan to uphold that promise.” Allegiance – why did that thought hurt so desperately? Why did Kurapika hope it was for more? The extra glances in the halls since they were young, the lingering smiles, and tinted cheeks. Kurapika had always thought those things meant something more, but age was opening his once innocent mind to all kinds of painful heartbreak.


	5. Killua

Words tickled the boy’s ear as he found himself sliding back into a state of consciousness. His tongue felt heavy and dry in his mouth. It was hard to say just how many times he’d attempted to reply; but each time he thought to speak, bearing in mind the constant loss of consciousness, he’d already forgotten what he’d been asked. The corners of his vision blurred toward a distorted focus. A short, squat man stood before Killua; arms crossed and resting on his large belly. He was heavyset, with a bulbous nose and an unsteady gaze. “Who are you?” the man’s words were clearer than before. “Who sent you?” His voice was much more irritating than intimidating – it didn’t do much to encourage a response from the boy. Despite the lack of time Killua had spent conscious and aware, he was sure the voice and its owner had not come to pay him visit before.  
Killua spat blood on the stone floor. His wrists were shackled above his head in a damp room as far from the sun as he could be – housed in the dark, wet underbelly of the castle. “What happened to the last guy?” The boy huffed. He couldn’t seem to fill his lungs with enough air; and when he did manage to breathe in, deep and greedy pulls, the air was stale and dense. “Did you eat him?” A large fist made contact with his temple, causing his vision to blur and tingle. He blinked several times to try and ease the dizzy headache roaring inside his skull. “Is that your first or are you –”  
“Enough!” The man’s suddenly loud voice rattled against Killua’s burning thoughts. “You’re in no position to act so arrogant! Again, I ask: who sent you?”  
Killua let out a loud sigh. His ears were still ringing from the intensity of the most recent punch. Not only that, but Killua could also feel the place on his cheekbone where the skin had split and begun to swell. The boy thought for a long second, trying to recall the string of words he was told to recite in the event that he was captured. To the right person his utterance would have clear meaning; to anyone else it would only sound like the deranged ramblings of a defiant boy. “The pin comes for the crown.” The hefty man suddenly stopped and took a step back from the shackled boy. His large eyes narrowed, and he huffed as if Killua’s words drew a line that he could no longer cross. Killua immediately understood that the man recognized his statement. Yet before either the boy or his captor could say more the heavy door to the dungeon creaked, brought to life after so much unuse.  
“Illumi,” the large man said as his tall companion entered. “I was just coming to find you… he spoke your words exactly.” The last part seemed as if it were meant to be no more than a whisper, but Killua had heard it perfectly.  
“I’m well aware, Tonpa,” Illumi thrilled. He was wearing a sinister grin, like he had anticipated the very scenario that lay before his eyes. Even in the dim light of the underground dungeon, Killua could see that. Illumi looked toward his companion. “Leave us,” he said coldly.  
Tonpa looked disheartened. His eyes said that he wanted part in whatever came next, but his fidgeting hands said that he wanted the right to cross that line again, to attack Killua more. “But Illumi, I –”  
“It wasn’t a request,” the taller man snapped. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” Tonpa hesitantly bowed before leaving the chamber. His footsteps clicked and echoed as he moved down the corridor. There was a long passage of silence before Illumi met the boy’s eyes. “You’ve grown since I last saw you, brother,” he grinned. “Has it been so long?” He took a damp cloth to the boy’s bloody face and dabbed with care.  
Killua winced at the stinging pain. “Two years, I think,” he said. “Last you visited home I was fifteen.”  
“Hm.” Illumi looked contemplative as he cleaned his younger brother’s wounds. “Seventeen years old and caught like a rat in a trap,” he sneered. It had been a long time since he’d seen his brother’s face and he couldn’t help but poke fun. Although his eyes were cold and vacant, a smile still played on his lips.  
“I’ve been through worse,” Killua insisted. “Always thanks to you.” He spit more blood onto the wet stones. “Your pet dog knows how to hit.”  
“You have no idea how much rage that man carries,” Illumi said, stepping back just slightly once he had finished cleaning his kid brother’s face.  
“Rage isn’t all he’s carrying…” Killua sneered. The side eyes and sarcasm weren’t a coping mechanism for the boy – he was casually cold. His upbringing was darker than most and he had learned to laugh and smile, not through the pain, but alongside it. He held hands with death, made an ally of the grave. People close to him had perished, many by his own hand. At three Killua was wielding a dagger, by five he had killed at least half a dozen men. By the age of ten he’d ingested, inhaled, touched every poison known to man. At seventeen he was ruthless, colder than the dirt where his victims rested.  
“You have no idea what it takes to rule,” Illumi said in response.  
“I wasn’t born to rule,” the boy insisted. “I was born to kill. It’s all I know.”  
Illumi’s laugh was low and haunting. “That can’t possibly be true, Killua.” He took the boy’s chin in his boney fingers and squeezed. The gesture was playful and all at once menacing. “You failed after all.” His hollow eyes reflected hell.  
Killua seemed suddenly frustrated – the edges of his lips tiled into a grimace. “You forgot to mention there’d be two people in the room,” he hissed. “And you promised he’d be asleep.” The memory alone infuriated him.   
“Two people?” Illumi raised a brow as he released the boy’s face.  
“You sound surprised.” Killua was frowning. “Yes, two people. The prince and a tall man in robes. I think he was wearing bifocals.”  
“Leorio…” Illumi hissed through his teeth. He looked deep in thought before he continued, almost mumbling to himself. “Pokkle said he went out in search of the prince, but I knew it… he went with him.”  
“You knew it?” the boy grimaced. “Is that why you warned me?” Killua was feeling suddenly anxious; he began to squirm and fight against his restraints. “Let me out of here.”  
“In time, dear brother,” Illumi said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need time to plan further. At this rate someone is bound to find the prince and nab him. Besides… what will the others think if you suddenly disappear?”  
“That you’re more useless than them,” Killua offered in casual seriousness.  
“All laughs as always, I see.” Yet Illumi wasn’t laughing or grinning. “You’ll be free soon enough and when you are, you will find the prince and his companion. Bring me their heads. And if anyone else has the misfortune of housing them, bring their heads as well.”  
“I thought you served the prince,” Killua squinted. “I’m not opposed to killing him, but what if you’re caught.”  
“As far as everyone is concerned by now, the prince is a traitor to Padokea. Besides, you’re not close enough to understand. The Trusted Council serves the throne, not the man wearing the crown. And sometimes the man sitting on the throne isn’t the right one. It’s happened before and, unfortunately it’s bound to happen again. I’m doing whatever it takes to be sure the kingdom has seen the last of the Kurta line.”


	6. Gon

Gon watched his aunt as she frantically gathered essentials: loaves of bread, dried meats, a bottle of spiced wine that she had been saving for an occasion she had never divulged to her nephew, and was that a dagger she slipped into the pack? It was hard to know at what point the boy stopped watching out of sheer fascination and began watching with the intent of figuring out how he might help the cause. There had to be a way he could be of use to the travelers. And suddenly, it dawned on him. “Aunt Mito,” he said, holding his aunt’s wrist while she packed. The woman looked toward her nephew. “Where will they go?”  
“I’m not sure, Gon,” she said. Her free hand worked as she talked. “I don’t think they ever could have planned for this.”  
If he told the woman what he was thinking, she would be unhappy. But wouldn’t she also do anything in her capacity if it meant protecting the throne? “What if they had a guide?” Gon suddenly asked. He was still hanging onto his aunt’s wrist, like he wanted to be sure she didn’t try to outrun his suggestion – it was coming, rising in his throat; sooner or later he would have to let go of the words.  
She kept her eyes focused and her hand working. “They have to be careful. For the right price, anyone might choose gold over the prince’s life.”  
The woman wasn’t understanding. “Aunt Mito –” The suggestion was like bile at the back of Gon’s throat, threatening to suffocate him, but his aunt interrupted.  
“And besides, wherever would we find a guide on such short notice?” Gon squeezed her wrist with gentle tenderness. The gesture averted her focus from the pack in front of her and she looked down into her nephew’s soft, dark eyes. She was watching him like she was suddenly surprised that the small child she’d taken in was now a seventeen-year-old boy, nearly as tall as her. Her face said she understood. “Absolutely not,” the woman said pointedly, pulling her wrist away from the boy’s grip.  
“But who better?” he questioned. After all, he had seen so much of the world; he’d met so many people – some of whom he was sure would be of use to the prince.  
“I won’t lose you, Gon.” Her voice was torn by fear. “Not again. You only just came back.” There was desperate sadness in her face. After all, once Gon had made up his mind, the argument was already lost. And she knew there was nothing she could say. Mito put a hand on the boy’s cheek. “You are too good,” she cooed. “Too kind.” Her smile was one of sorrow and dread. “Your heart never stays home, does it? You’re just like your father.”  
Gon totted the supplies to their guests’ room, trailing behind his aunt. As it was his first time in the presence of royalty, Gon immediately bowed in respect.  
“Your highness, Leorio… I don’t believe you’ve met my nephew, Gon.” Mito sounded stoic and strong, but Gon could see the way she fiddled with her fingers which she had tucked behind her back. There was guilt there, of course, for causing her to feel unsettled in any way. But all the same, he had to do his part.  
The boy handed the pack to Leorio who set it on the end of his bed. “I’m sorry we aren’t able to stay longer,” he said. “But the sooner we leave, the better.”  
It was the first time Gon had seen the prince’s wounds. His hand was completely wrapped and Gon could see the bandage peeking out from under the prince’s loose shirt. “Actually…” the boy began. He was feeling suddenly nervous. “That’s why I’m here. I’d like to offer my services.” Both Leorio and the prince looked toward the boy in anticipation. His eyes moved toward his aunt and then back toward the pair. “I’d like to be your guide.” Before he could be rejected, he began to explain his qualifications. “I’m well-traveled and I’ve created dozens of maps. And I know a lot of people on the road.” Gon stalled to catch his breath – he was too eager, and it showed. “I really just want to help… I could care less about gold and would never be swayed by any reward.”  
The prince sat on the edge of his bed, wearing a smile. It was warm and sincere in a way that assured Gon beyond reason of a doubt that he could not possible be guilty of any of the things of which he’d been accused. “Gon, is it?” he asked. “I so appreciate your kindness. You and your aunt both…” The prince was staring down at his bandaged hand, trailing the fabric with his fingers. “You are young and free.” When he looked up toward Gon again, there was complete and utter sadness on his face. “Don’t bind yourself to my troubles. You may never outrun them.” Prince Kurapika didn’t know Gon, didn’t know anything he was capable of; or know the things he had seen during his travels. He didn’t know that Gon had grown up without a mother and without the presence of his father. He could not possibly have known his thirst for travel and exploration – that danger didn’t deter him. And despite all that he didn’t know, the prince still seemed so desperate to protect the boy. Mito slipped her hand inside of Gon’s and squeezed as the prince continued his lecture. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re always running.”  
“I’ve been running my whole life, your highness,” Gon insisted. He was standing tall for the first time since he’d entered the prince’s presence. “I never tire of it.”  
“Mito-san…” Leorio scratched at the back of his neck. “Are you sure about this?” Gon tried not to take it personally that the man was asking for his aunt’s permission, but he had to remind himself that this was their first meeting.   
Mito had her hand on her nephew’s shoulder. “I trust him, and I trust you… to guard each other’s lives. All of you.” Her fingers squeezed and Gon found himself feeling nostalgic and somehow longing for home even though they hadn’t left yet. “Gon and I will prepare a cart for your travels.” Mito left the room and descended the stairs, but Leorio’s voice held Gon in the room a moment longer.  
“Where will you take us?” Leorio asked. “You must have something in mind if you’ve volunteered so eagerly.” His obvious concern wasn’t accusatory.   
Gon smiled in response. “There’s a sorcerer on the outskirts of the kingdom, in the Milsy Wetlands. I think he can offer some help.”  
“A sorcerer?” Prince Kurapika questioned. He looked confused and curious. “Who is this man? I’ve never heard of any sorcerer living in the Wetlands.”  
“I met him during my travels, and I assure you his skill is real,” Gon insisted. Though it had been a while since he’d paid the man a visit, the boy was sure he hadn’t so easily abandoned his post. “Hisoka is his name.”


End file.
